


This Is Going To Hurt

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [30]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dissociation, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Pining, cw bulimia, heather chandler continues to be oblivious to a lot of things, other cws in the author's note, tw sexual harassment mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23944072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: Life's about to get a lot harder for Heather Chandler... but she'll be fine, just like she always has. She can handle this.Right?
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Heather Duke
Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1053590
Comments: 5
Kudos: 146





	This Is Going To Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> okay so long-winded CW: Ms Fleming is awful and some of the things she says are extremely disrespectful and very questionable, so if you're particularly sensitive to awful counselling or victim-blaming sounding things, then either skip this fic or just skip her parts. she's not in this fic for very long.

“Heather?” Chandler called into the seemingly empty bathroom. “Heather, I know you’re in here.”

That was somewhat of a lie; she  _ assumed _ Heather Duke was in here, but that presumption could only be based on assuming the worst. She’d disappeared after lunch period without explaining where she was going, and having only done so after Mac had left the lunch table after being called on by Hale and Diego. Both she and Veronica had clearly shared the same concerned thoughts, having shared the same dreaded look with one another, however Duke seemed to have timed it well, as the bell rang before Veronica could even think about following her.

Where Duke had made an error, though, is forgetting that she too had a free period now.

_ Or perhaps she didn’t forget, _ she thought with a heavy heart.  _ Maybe she just assumed I’d go straight to study hall and forget about it. _

She stood in the bathroom for a moment, observing each stall. All doors were closed, but none of them were locked, implying all of them were empty. For a moment, she thought that maybe Heather hadn’t come here after all, but she also knew she was smart when it came to hiding.

“I guess she’s not in here then,” she said out loud, walking back to the exit. “Where the hell is she then?”

She then proceeded to open the door, clack her heels against the ground to sound as though she were moving, then letting the door close again. She remained completely still and silent, holding her breath for a few moments, pretending like she wasn’t there. As expected, she heard a relieved sigh sound from the stall on the far end, and she ran towards it and kicked it open.

“ _ Hey! _ ” Duke barked as the door came swinging towards her. “That nearly hit me!”

Chandler crossed her arms at her. “Had you answered me, I wouldn’t have kicked the door open.”

Duke scowled at her, leaning back against the wall. She was sitting on the floor, knees tucked under her chin with what looked like a nail filer in her hand. “If you knew I was in here, you didn’t have to kick the door open.”

Heather gazed down at her. She looked awfully vulnerable; her stance was tense and her eyes were avoiding locking with her own. That, and sitting on the bathroom floor of a high school was just never a good look for anybody.

Still looking at her, Chandler pushed the door closed with her foot and locked it without taking her eyes off of Duke.

“You seem sad,” she said. “I’d ask why, but I already have a good idea.”

Duke rested her chin on her knees, hugging them close.

“I’ll be fine,” she mumbled. “You don’t need to be here.”

Chandler frowned, debated for a moment on whether what she was about to do would be too gross, then decided to say fuck it and sat down next to her. They both sat in silence for a while, with Heather trying to think of what to say. Eventually, though, it was Duke who broke the silence.

“I thought I was getting better,” she murmured. Chandler blinked at her.

“You are, aren’t you?”

Duke let her hair droop over her face. “It doesn’t feel like it.”   


“You haven’t been purging as often,” she said. “That counts for something, right?”

Duke’s gaze remained solemn.

“It’s been two months since I decided to try and get better,” she muttered, shoving her nail filer into her blazer. “But I feel like I’m still in the same place as before.”

“That’s not true,” Chandler argued. “Heather, just the other day you were scribbling out your calorie counts!”

“But that doesn’t stop me from  _ counting _ them!” she exclaimed. “I’m still counting them in my head, Heather! It’s still the first thing I look at on a wrapper, I still add it all up in my head, and I don’t even mean to do any of it!” Her face fell into her hands. “It’s more than just me choosing to stop doing things… it’s me stopping an entire routine I’ve been holding onto for  _ months _ .” Her hands dropped again, with one of them stopping by her mouth, where she nibbled the tips of her nails, or at least, any nail that she could find.

“Well… if that’s the case, then why are you expecting yourself to get better so quickly?” Chandler asked. “It hasn’t been that long, you know.”

“It… it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, no,” she murmured. “But I know how much time has passed, and… I just don’t like how slowly I’m moving, okay?”

Chandler bit her lip, shuffling a little closer to her. She placed one hand on her knee while she tried to think of something else to say.

“So maybe you’re not getting better as quick as you would like,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you’re not getting better at all.”

Duke gazed at her for a moment, and in that moment, Chandler thought she might have said something right. That is, until she got a reply.

“Have you ever heard of Zeno’s paradox?”

She blinked. “No?”  _ What does that have to do with anything? _

“Okay… so, to summarise - and sorry, this is a mathematical paradox.”

“Ew.”

“It’s this old paradox thought up by some Ancient Greek,” she explained. “It’s the idea that, when you’re travelling to a destination, there is always a halfway point. That’s when the problem arises, though.”   


“Uh-huh?”

“You see, once you reach that half way point, suddenly there’s a new halfway point between the original halfway point and the destination,” she said, demonstrating with her hands. “Then, when you reach  _ that _ halfway point, there’s a new halfway point, and then another, and another, and… you get the idea.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Chandler replied. “But what does that have to do with-”

“That’s what this  _ feels _ like!” Duke lamented. “I feel like I actually got somewhere, like I achieved something, like I’m closer to recovering, only to feel like I’m just going to the next halfway point, and then the next, and then… it just keeps  _ going _ .” Her head fell onto her lap, her arms covering her face. “I feel like I’m moving forward, but I’m never going to get anywhere.’

Chandler couldn’t help but give her a pitiful look. She placed a hand on her hair, and murmured,

“Hey.”

Duke peeked at her.

“That’s a load of bullshit.”

She lifted her head more, an eyebrow raised.

“Heather, since when has that ever actually been true?” she scoffed. “Look, what if my destination is… the other side of this stall.” She stood up, took a step forward and turned around. “Wow! I made it to my destination! No dumb mathematical problem here to stop me!” She rolled her eyes and sat back down next to her. “Maybe that paradox  _ sounds _ smart, but, as demonstrated, it isn’t true at all.” She offered a reassuring smile. “Meaning, you are in fact moving forward, you just don’t feel like you are.”

Duke seemed to actually consider what she was saying, which gave Chandler confidence to continue speaking.

“Put it this way,” she went on. “Say you’re in a class you don’t like. You’re staring at the clock constantly, waiting for it to move, but it feels like it’s going so  _ slow _ .”

She checked that Heather was still following. She was; her posture had unfolded and her eyes were on her.

“But you know how time works - you know that in reality, it’s moving at the same pace it’s  _ always _ done, but that isn’t how it feels in that moment. Of course, the reason why is because you  _ want _ it to move faster - it’s not moving fast enough by  _ your _ standard.” She gave a bemused huff. “But you still know that your standard is too high - you can’t change how fast time moves, and so it feels like it’s slowing down.”

Duke fell quiet.

“ _ Can’t _ I move faster, though?” she murmured. Chandler shrugged.

“Maybe you can, but you just don’t know that right now. If you don’t know how to move faster, then don’t get mad at yourself for not doing it.” She sighed. “Besides, Heather, by ‘move faster’, what do you actually mean?”

Duke didn’t respond, just shrank into her shoulders.

“Going back to the clock analogy, if the clock arm was ten minutes behind, meaning it’s moving a lot quicker than it appears to… does that really change the speed of the actual arm?” Chandler gave a bittersweet smile. “Yeah, you can look ten minutes ahead of it, and yeah, it’s satisfying to know that there’s actually ten minutes before the bell rings, not twenty. But regardless, it’s going to move at that same, slow pace, and it’s  _ still _ going to be frustrating.”

She leaned a little closer.

“I don’t think you want to move faster, Heather. I think you just want to recover.”

Duke bit the inside of her cheek. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“I mean… yeah. You can’t exactly expect yourself to recover without doing the recovery part, but how are you meant to do that when you’re getting mad at yourself for not recovering already?” She sighed. “Look, I know I’m not the best person to come to about this, with how I’m kinda… I mean, I’m part of the reason why… ugh.” She shook the thought away. “But Heather, what I’m trying to say, is give yourself a fucking break. You’re going at your own pace, and maybe that pace will speed up at some point, maybe it won’t! I don’t know, I don’t know that much about bulimia. I just know you shouldn’t be mad at yourself for not reaching an impossible standard.”

Duke looked… dejected, but she didn’t look like she was mad at her. More just some form of acceptance as her words sank in.

“I know,” she murmured. “I just wish it was easier.”

“Life’s never been easy, and wishing for it to get easier won’t help.”

Duke sighed solemnly. “I know.” She shuffled a little closer, and to Chandler’s surprise, her head fell on her shoulder. Something coiled in the pit of her stomach at the contact, something uncomfortable, yet not necessarily unpleasant.

“Thanks,” she heard her murmur. Chandler swallowed.

“It’s… it’s no problem?” She shuffled a little closer and rested her chin on her soft black curls. She was close enough to catch the scent of her perfume… something sharp, but still sweet. Wild berries, maybe?

“I guess all of this is just… hard,” Duke murmured. “I always knew it would be. It’s why I was so hesitant to bother recovering in the first place. But… it’ll be worth it, right?”

Chandler scoffed at her uncertainty.

“No shit it’ll be worth it.”

Duke snickered. “You sound so sure.”

“That’s because I  _ am _ .”

She then heard some rustling, and with a glance, she saw Duke was unwrapping some gum.

“Sorry if you could smell my breath, by the way,” she said, placing it in her mouth.

“No… I didn’t, don’t worry.”

“Phew.”

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a little while, arms pressed up against each other and the comfort of each other’s presence keeping them company. They hardly even cared when they heard someone come in and use the stall right next to them - usually Chandler would be paranoid that they’d be spotted in such a vulnerable position, but somehow she didn’t mind this time. She was just happy to be able to share this moment with Heather… it was strangely soft and close, closer than usual, closer than she thought she’d be able to get. She’d happily take it.

_ Why is she so nice to lean against? _ she pondered.  _ It’s nice… _ She glanced down at her.  _ I like it when she’s peaceful. She looks almost… cute? _ If she weren’t so comfortable, she’d scold herself for thinking such a thing.  _ But she does. She’s like a… _

“You know, these shoulder pads aren’t exactly comfortable,” Duke commented. Chandler snickered.

“They’re not exactly made to be pillows, Doll.”

Silence.

“ _ What. _ ”

“ _ What? _ ”

Chandler realised the word that had just came out of her mouth, and immediately her face grew hot and she scrambled off of Duke, the embarrassment thick enough to choke her.

“I, uh-” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to, um- it just thlipped-  _ slipped _ out and-”

Duke could only stare at her for a while longer, her cheeks tinted with a darker shade and  _ oh, why do I like the look of that? _ Chandler thought in her panic.

“I didn’t mean to say that!” Chandler finally exclaimed. “It just… uh…”

Finally, Duke broke her silence, and began to laugh. A lot.

“Gross, when did you get so fucking  _ sappy? _ ” she cackled, wiping a tear. “You feel the need to give us  _ all _ pet names now, huh?”

“No! I don’t know why I said it!”  _ I don’t think… _

Duke continued to laugh, and while Chandler was absolutely fucking  _ mortified _ by her dumb little slip up, she could at least appreciate that it had given Heather something to laugh about rather than mope around in a bathroom stall. Did that make it worth the complete and utter shame she felt? Debatable.

“Look, since you’ve made me feel a lot better, I won’t hold it against you, how’s that sound?” Duke said with a snicker. Chandler pursed her lips and nodded, but even that didn’t stop the fact that she was still incredibly warm.

“Yeah, how about we forget all that happened,” Chandler said, standing up. “And maybe get the hell out of here? These stalls are gross.”

“Tell me about it,” Duke said, accepting Chandler’s hand when she held it out to her. Her hand was small and had a soft texture. “So where are we going, then?”

Chandler shrugged. “Shall we go terrorise innocent students out of boredom?”

“And to hide the fact that we were both sitting in a bathroom stall being depressed?” Duke grinned mischievously. “Of course.”

Chandler returned her grin with a smirk, and out the bathroom they walked, hand in hand until they reached the corridor, chests puffed out proudly and chins raised to stare down everyone they walked past. Of course, it worked just as it had for years. Students either gawked at them with drool threatening to drip down their chins, or they’d avert their gaze with fear. You know, the usual. Nothing new, and yet she’d never tire of it.

Sometimes she did have to wonder what it would be like, not having everyone admire and fear you simultaneously. How she would even walk down the hallways, she had no clue. How Veronica put up with it for so many years, she was even more baffled, and she could hardly blame her for coming to them in an act of desperation.

All was well, they were proud as ever, that is, until something caught her eyes. Up until then, she had been listening to Duke ramble on about Veronica, how she had hardly noticed herself developing a crush on her, and swooning about how adorable awkward she had been around her. She wished she could have kept her attention on that much more pleasant topic, but some brightly coloured, brand new flyers stuck to the notice board quite easily caught her eye.

“What the hell?” She closed in on it, with Duke stopping in the middle of the corridor curiously.

“What’s wrong?”

Chandler didn’t respond, instead looking closely at the several flyers plastered all over the board. There wasn’t that much writing to be read, just enough for her stomach to sink into a pit of dread.

“Oh, you’re fucking  _ kidding _ me,” Chandler growled, ripping a flyer off the wall to get a closer look, creasing it in the progress.

“What?” Duke came over and looked over her shoulder. “...Oh.”

“Does she think this is some type of  _ joke? _ ” she hissed. “What the hell is  _ she _ gonna do for a  _ sexual harassment awareness _ week? Sing a cheery little song to embrace our trauma?” She glowered at the flyer for a while longer, before crushing it between her palms. “God… why did I have to let anything slip?”

“It isn’t your fault,” Duke told her, placing a comforting hand on her arm. It surprisingly worked. “Clearly she just got a burst of inspiration from someone’s personal life, which just so happened to be yours.” She took the crumpled flyer and shoved it in her green blazer.

“Oh, how I wish I could give her a piece of my mind,” Chandler growled, her lip curling threateningly. A tug on her clothes, and she saw Duke pointing further down the hallway.

“Now’s your chance.”

Sure enough, Ms Fleming was making her way towards them both, her eyes particularly on her. She felt as though she could shrink - she  _ did _ want to give her a piece of her mind, but she didn’t mean right  _ now _ .

“Ask and ye shall receive,” she mumbled, keeping herself standing tall and domineering.

“Oh, Heather! I’ve been hoping to find you all day,” Ms Fleming began with a far-too-friendly smile. She stopped a few feet away from them. “I see you’ve noticed those flyers I put up?”

Chandler followed her finger back to the notice board. She glowered at them.

“Oh, I noticed.”

“Isn’t it great? I managed to convince the school board to let me raise awareness for such an important cause,” she said. She sounded  _ oh so proud _ of herself. It made Chandler squirm with discomfort - did she feel like some sort of hero?

“Yeah.  _ Great, _ ” Chandler hissed bitterly through gritted teeth. “You’ll be saving damned  _ lives _ ."

“Well, that’s very generous of you to say,” Fleming said as she looked over one of her flyers. Chandler exchanged a look with Duke, one that said,

_ “Does she not know what sarcasm is?” _

“No, what I  _ actually _ mean, is-” she tried to speak again, only to be cut off.

“We’re still planning a lot of things out - it was pretty last minute, but I think it can work! We’re planning to get speakers in to talk to every grade,” she said. Chandler raised her brow skeptically.

“Speakers?”

“Of course! I couldn’t possibly do it all myself. I think that’s been a problem with most of my past events - always trying to juggle far too much.”

“Yeah,  _ that’s _ the problem,” she heard Duke mutter under her breath.

“Which is why I wanted to come and see you, actually!” she then said, walking over to her. Chandler instinctively took a few steps back.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, Heather, I know how much influence you and your friends have over this school, and while I’m aware some of that influence isn’t… the  _ best _ , I was hoping you would be okay using it for good?”

Chandler stared at her, dumbfounded.

“ _ Excuse me? _ ”

“Well, I’m fully aware that students are less likely to listen to those of much different generations. In other words, I’m not hip with the kids these days, y’know?”

“Please  _ never _ say that again.”

“So I’ve arranged for you to help out over the following week! Don’t worry, you don’t have that much of a work load, I’ve distributed it all evenly, and-”   


“Wait, wait, wait,” she interrupted. “ _ What? _ ”

Fleming looked at her as if she hadn’t just dropped a massive bomb. “You’re the best person for the job, Heather! You talk to students all the time during lunchtime poll - you know all their faces, surely. I wouldn’t ask anyone else, honestly!” She smiled, and Heather had never wanted to punch her more. “You have a gift for getting through to students, and as this is such an important issue, I figured you’d be the best person to bring awareness to it.” She stepped a little closer and placed her boney hand on her shoulder. “Especially since it’s such a personal issue to you.”

Chandler shook her off, giving her a disgusted snarl.

“Wait, you’re telling me you just…  _ decided _ I was going to help you with this?” she spat. “Without even so much as  _ asking _ me?”

“I would have, but it’s all such short notice,” Fleming explained. “Besides, you usually jump at such opportunities, don’t you? You love all the attention these sort of events give you!”

There was something about what she said, something about how she worded that, that made Chandler sick to the stomach. She had to take a moment to recover, unable to really process what exactly it had been that had struck such a nerve when she was far too busy covering up her discomfort.

“With all due respect,” she eventually said. “I didn’t consent to this.” She paused. “No pun intended.”

A slap on her arm from Duke stopped her from letting out a snicker at her own joke.

“I know, and I do apologise for the short notice, honestly,” she said, before reaching into one of her baggy pockets of her cardigan. “But here,” she said, shoving a folded piece of paper into Heather’s hand. “I’ve made a list of what I have planned for each day. I was especially hoping you could join us on the third day? I think your experiences would come in handy.”

Chandler didn’t open the note. Instead, she opened her mouth to protest about how  _ ridiculous _ she was being, how she didn’t want to do this at  _ all _ , how this was going to be all for nothing. Instead, Ms Fleming glanced at her watch, her attention suddenly diverging.

“Oh, though I am late for a student’s counselling session! My mistake. I hope to see you there, girls!”

With that, she walked away, soon enough out of Heather’s sight. And yet, that didn’t stop the burning anger she felt in her veins, and she was sure if looks could kill, Fleming’s blood would be all over the walls.

“Heather?”

Duke’s voice snapped her out of it, and she looked back at her.

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” She eyed her hand that had curled into a fist. “You look very tense.”

“I…” She stared at her hand as the fist uncurled. It had been in such a tight ball that her nails had torn through the sheet of paper she had been given. “I’m okay.” She swallowed. Her mouth was dry. “Just… frustrated.”

Duke gave a disgruntled huff. “She’s a real bitch.”

“Mhmm…” She shoved the destroyed slip of paper into her blazer, almost helplessly. “What do I do now?”

“I’m sure you don’t  _ actually _ have to do whatever she’s planning,” Duke said.

“Right.”

Duke frowned. “Look… how about I go try and convince her to not make you do this?” she suggested. Chandler frowned.

“I can do it.”

“No… you just stay and recover from… that,” Duke told her, placing her hand on her chest. “I don’t think you want to face her right now.”

Biting her lip, Chandler shook her head.

“I’ll be back,” she told her, before rushing in the direction that Ms Fleming had disappeared to, leaving Chandler alone in the school hallway, with no one to occupy her thoughts. Now that she wasn’t listening to the sound of Heather’s voice, her brain began to drift off elsewhere, closing off from her surroundings and trapping itself with her incredibly overwhelming thoughts. Realising how disconnected she was becoming, she reached into her blazer and grabbed the metal necklace that sat in an inner pocket, holding it tightly in her hand.

The cold metal brought her back a little, and she was able to look around and process what was happening. Only then did she realise that her legs were moving, carrying her down the hallway. She looked up, unsure where she was going, trying to distract herself with the students that would walk past her, taking extra care to stay out of her radius.

Eventually her eyes landed on a dark figure lurking around some lockers up ahead. She stopped and stared, watching as JD shoved something into his locker, before closing it again and walking further down the hallway. She stood still for a moment, wondering if she was really going to chase after him or turn right back around. But the longer she stood there, the more her head became foggy. Groaning to herself, she hurried after him, praying he’d end up somewhere without prying eyes and, knowing him, that would very likely happen.

She ended up following him into the gym, where he stood underneath the bleachers lighting a cigarette in his hands. The large room was empty, and her presence was made known with the door shutting loudly and her heels echoing. JD looked up as soon as she took her first step towards him, and he sighed.

“What do you want now?” he asked. Chandler blinked.

“I never said I wanted anything. Way to assume things.”

“ _ Do _ you want something?”

Chandler bit her lip, stopping a little ways away from him.

“I have… a dilemma,” she muttered. “I’ll cut to the chase. Next week is going to be rough for me, and I… need your help.” She winced as the words that left her mouth, but there was no better way to put it.

“I see.” JD breathed out a puff of smoke. “What with?”

Heather stared at the ground as she replied quietly, “Appearing like I’m fine, preferably by  _ actually _ being fine.”

After waiting in silence for a while, she finally looked up at JD to see if he was even thinking of a response, or just simply staring at her.

It seemed to be the latter.

“Are you going to answer me?” Heather questioned. “Or are you just going to stare at me like a confused little rabbit?”

JD took his cigarette out of his mouth.

“I’m not going to answer,” he said at last. Heather stared at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Look… whatever’s happening next week, I hope you get through it fine, but…” He dropped his cigarette and stomped on it. “Could you not treat me like some sort of therapist one moment and then lower than the dirt you walk on the next?”

Heather was taken aback. “What?” She then scowled at him. “Just the other week you were okay with-”

“You still treat me like a nobody,” JD said, his voice calm, yet an underlying edge to it. “You only stop and be ‘nice’ to me whenever I’m of some sort of use to you. It doesn’t feel all that great, you know.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and began to stalk around her. “I’m not just a tool you can use to feel better about yourself whenever you think you might get exposed for having personal problems just like everyone else in this school. I’m a person who deals with the same shit as you, and it goes a lot deeper than some sort of counselling session that you think you’re entitled to, for whatever reason.”

Chandler slowly turned as she watched him saunter towards the door. He wasn’t even looking at her.

“I’m not your therapist, Heather. I’m not even your  _ friend. _ ”

And with that, his pace sped up, and he left her alone and dejected in the gym, still lost on what to do, and still feeling just like she did before this conversation… if not  _ worse. _

_ That… that prick! _ she thought, infuriated.  _ I actually try and ask for help, for once in my damn life, and this is what I get, huh? _ Her lip curled and her thoughts began to race. At the very least, her anger brought her back into reality, along with the familiar routine of scheming some sort of revenge plot to get back at him for saying such a thing to her. She stormed towards the exit as she went through her growing list of ways to ruin him, even if just for a day.

And once she was back in the school hallways, she stopped.

_ I can’t, _ she told herself.  _ Veronica would never forgive me. _

Frustration began to build, and with no outlet for her anger, she did the next best thing she could think of. She marched down the hallways, clearly with more fury than usual, with how the few students lingering around either fled or pressed themselves against the walls and lockers as she walked past, her heels clicking louder than ever. Eventually, though, she stopped.

She stood in front of the first trash can she had spotted, and stared at it for a moment, debating with herself for a second as to whether or not she should go through with what she was about to do.

_ Do it. Fuck it! _ Her fist tightened - in fact, it had never loosened to begin with. She opened her hand up and gave the necklace in her palm one last look, one last  _ infuriated _ look, before throwing it into the trash, a loud clang ringing in her ears for a few seconds after. It was out of her sight, having fallen to the bottom of the trash can. She gave it a final glance over her shoulder, before walking away.

_ I don’t need that piece of junk. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone but myself! _ she told herself.  _ It’s like I told Mac. I’ve been doing things on my own for years - why should that stop now? Why- _

“Heather?”

“ _ Ah! _ ” She spun around and made eye contact with Duke. “Oh. Hi.”

Duke grimaced at her. “So… bad news, I could not convince her to lay off you, even with threats,” she muttered. “Though, I did say that I’d be  _ willing _ to help out, at the very least.”

“Help out?”

“Basically just an excuse to give you less work load than you’re expected to do,” she said. “You’re welcome.”

The anger bubbling inside of Chandler suddenly calmed as adoration flooded through her instead, and she let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

The two of them shuffled a little closer together - mainly on Chandler’s end (what? It was more convenient to stand closer to her) - and the two of them began to walk down the corridor. She felt as though her anger could be put to bed - at least for now - while she listened to Duke continue to talk, having changed the topic quickly to distract her from Ms Fleming’s shameful antics plaguing her mind. It was strangely considerate, but welcome nonetheless. She still wasn’t all that used to her being so generous to her; she was usually so pessimistic and dismissive, and while she didn’t necessarily mind those aspects, seeing her put so much effort into making her feel better - even if to her, it was little to no effort at all - made her heart flutter.

_ Wait. _ She placed a hand on her chest in confusion.  _ That’s not normal… is it? _ Sure, she was used to it, and that’s because she felt it all the time with Veronica and Mac.

_ But it’s different with them. _ She thickly swallowed, unable to tear her gaze away.  _ Right? _

“So what are your plans for the date, anyway?”

Her heart did an unexpected flip. “Date? What?”

“You know… this weekend? I was just telling you about my ideas.” She gave her a quizzical look. “Have Veronica and Mac not told you about it?”   


_ Oh. _

“No, they haven’t.”

“Oh, they’re probably still trying to come up with ideas for it. None of us are really sure on what to do for it, since y’know, there’s four of us, as well as there being two people not dating one another.” She gestured to the two of them, and for some fucking dumb reason, Chandler found herself feeling…  _ disappointed? Huh? _

“I wasn’t aware,” she said dryly. “Of the date, I mean.”

“Ah. Well, no pressure, we’re all just trying to think of things to do that’ll satisfy all of us.” She glimpsed at her. “So, cross dinner date off the list for moi, okay? As last time we went for a meal it was a disaster.”

“Yeah, obviously.” She grimaced to herself.

“You have a lot on your mind already, though, so if you wanna just leave the organising to us-”   


“Oh no, Heather,  _ please, _ ” she huffed with a grin. “Who do you take me for? Coming up with something to please all of us is my forte.” She brushed a hand over her shoulder. “Honestly, Heather, I’m kind of offended none of you came to me first thing.”

Duke gave her a snort. “If you’re so sure.”

“Of course I’m sure.” _ I’d much rather think about a date with you than everything else happening in this damned school. _

She paused.

_ A date with  _ you all, _ I mean, _ she clarified to herself.  _ As in, a date with Veronica and Mac, and you just so happen to be there as well. _ She bit her lip, still gazing at her.  _ Which… is exactly how I want it. _

She continued to stare at Heather. She stared at her curly black locks and how they swirled around her round, adorable and incredibly pretty complexion. Her eyes fell, and she stared at her figure, curvy and eye-catching, especially with how her hips swayed as she walked in the bold, striking manner she always carried with her, one she found so impressive when behind it all, she struggled with the issues with her image that she did. Despite them all, she never let it get in the way of how she presented herself, how she  _ wanted _ to present herself, and the way she presented herself was just so…

So…

The word never came to her, but the realisation did.

_ Oh fuck. _

That pleasant, fluttery feeling in her chest morphed into a painful cramp.

_ Oh  _ fuck _ me. _

“Heather?”

She returned to reality.

“Huh?”

“You look… incredibly disturbed, I think is a good way to put it,” Duke said, shooting her a questionable look. “Are you-”

“I’m okay! It’s stress,” she quickly said, tearing her gaze away from her. “I’ll get over it before you know it.”

“Okay?”

“Listen, uh… I need to go to my locker to grab some things before next period,” she said, stopping the middle of the corridor. “I’ll catch you later, sound good?”

“Sure?” Duke gave a shrug. “I can go with you if you want.”

“No, no! I’m fine on my own, thanks,” she reassured, ignoring the slight stammer in her voice, and without another word, she turned around and scurried off in the vague direction towards her locker. Granted, she needed to go there anyway to grab a textbook for her next class, but that was hardly a concern for her right now.

_ This can’t be happening, _ she thought, the feeling of dread growing and growing.  _ Not with her. No… that hurts far too much to be true. _

She tried to convince herself that it was just her brain acting up. Ms Fleming had made her emotions get out of hand, of  _ course _ she was having confusing feelings about literally everything, right?

But then her next lesson began, and she sat down, and the first thing her mind drifted to was Heather. Not even Mac or Veronica, just thinking about Heather, about what she would say if she was sitting right next to her. Her little quips, her dismissive eye rolls, her constant mode of  _ I’m too above all of this to give a shit. _ It wouldn’t leave her head, so she forced herself to think about something else in the next period.

That turned out to be for the worse, because throughout all of  _ that _ period she ended up thinking about sitting next to Heather, and yet instead of thinking about what she would say, she instead thought about how nice it would be to press her own leg against hers. She’d just enjoyed the feeling of her right up against her earlier, it wasn’t her fault her stomach coiled at the thought of her touching her again.

School ended soon enough, and rather than having learned anything new from her classes, her mind was instead dead set on Heather. While she drove, she thought about how Heather would always criticize her driving, always tell her when she’d make a wrong turn, and how incredibly frustrating it was. At first, she thought she finally found something to stop her from gushing helplessly over her, but instead, she found herself wishing Heather was in the seat next to her, strangely missing the sound of her voice, even if the thing she’d be talking about was mildly irritating, because for fuck’s sake, she’d forgotten that lately she’d stopped being so petty and bitter about the most trivial things about her, and her complaining about her driving had turned into playful sarcasm that Chandler found to be amusing, even a tool to throw back her own non-serious insults, all to win the game of making her laugh before Duke did that to her. Despite her efforts, though, Chandler usually lost.

She returned home, her head far too heavy and cluttered and overflowing with thoughts for her to even think about the fact that her parents were home. She didn’t even acknowledge their existence when she walked past the living room, she simply went straight upstairs. When she heard her mother call her name, she absentmindedly walked over to her couch, and pushed it over to her door, knowing her lock most certainly didn’t work. It wasn’t even an act of rebellion, or a big ‘fuck you, don’t talk to me’... she had too much to think about, and she didn’t need another.

She trudged over to her bed and fell face first onto it, not even bothering to change into more comfier clothing. She remained completely still, hoping that all the thoughts would spill out at last and leave her head empty. It took a while of replaying the day, replaying her interactions with Heather, replaying how much she  _ enjoyed _ Heather’s company, but eventually, she just grew so tired of it, and the feeling of being incredibly overwhelmed finally calmed.

By then, her back was beginning to ache from lying in her front for so long, and so she picked herself up, changed out of her clothes and threw on her robe. As soon as her makeup was off, she fell back onto her mattress, this time staring up at the ceiling above, sitting in complete silence, her head empty, yet still racing. It felt like a strong gust of wind blowing around wildly in a barren street, where nothing but a few crushed cans and dead leaves could be carried. Even with the few thoughts left, though, just like a can rolling around in a quiet street, they were incredibly loud, distracting and aggravating.

Soon enough, when she was finished projecting her thoughts onto the blank ceiling above, she took a deep breath, and then released it. Her panic faded, and instead she found a sense of unfortunate acceptance.

_ This is going to hurt. _

**Author's Note:**

> the next fic is (mostly) fluffy i swear
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/


End file.
